“Yeah, I can’t imagine what the families are going through,” I say, looking around to make sure no one in line is listening. “So, what was it you wanted to be interviewed about?” (Yes, Inita called us. TBD if she’s read the website.)

“Well,” Inita says, pausing for effect, “I already vented on my Twitter and made it my Facebook status, but, like, my Amazon package is three days late so far. And I have Prime.”

“Wait, what?” At this point, I turn my tape recorder off.

“I know. Unbelievable, right? I’ve been calling the Amazon customer service line, but they just keep saying trucks are delayed because of the mudslides. And can you believe that not one of them offered to come clean up the roads for me? Not even when I said I wanted to complain to their boss, Jeff Bevmos. It’s a travesty. And my package is, like, so important.”

She pulls out her phone to show me what it is. A used Ouija board.

“You bought a used Ouija board?” I ask in disbelief, passing the phone back so as to ward off the spirits already headed, albeit belatedly, for Inita’s doorstep.

“I know what you’re thinking: used? Gross. But I figure this way all the ghosts and stuff will already be attuned to it. Like when your family buys a new house and keeps the gardener.”

“But…why a Ouija board?”

“Well, I’ve been having this, like, feeling.” She raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes at me before continuing. “Really late at night, my door locks with my roommate inside and there are all these moans. I think we have a demonic presence. I mean, I’ve seen Paranormal Activity.”

“Um,” I clear my throat. “Have you considered that it might be some other kind of noise?”“Whatever.” Inita cuts her eyes at me. “All I want is for people to know how affected I am. I mean, I live right by where the mudslides are. Like, thirty minutes away! Imagine what could happen to my Range Rover.”